Snuggle Ch. 01

"Holy shit, Dude! Can you believe those girls?" He suddenly sobered. "Randy, I gotta tell you, I haven't been with a girl in a couple years. I'm a little nervous, man."

I gawked. "I didn't think you'd EVER been with a girl."

"Give me a break, Dude. Of course I've been with a girl." He paused to reflect. "I mean, it wasn't really planned or anything ... but it was nice. I mean, I thought it was nice. And I guess she did, too, because she wanted to go out again, and we ...." He stopped and regarded me again. "Fuck that shit, man. I need to think about THIS! About Janie! I mean, what if she ...?"

"Snap out of, Frank!" I ordered, exasperated. "The girls are hookers! They're paid to make you THINK they're enjoying it! That's just what hookers DO! We've got to keep this in perspective. We've got a hell of a lot of money riding on this!"

Frank's face darkened. "Don't call her a hooker, man."

I deflated a little and took pity. How was I going to reason with that level of lust? "Aw, Frank. Think about it. He told us the girls were ours for the night. 'Do with them what you will,' he said. They were standing right there, and they never even blinked at that. THEY know the score. Why don't you?"

His shoulders sagged, and he took a deep, mournful breath. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He shook his head slowly. "But, Dude ... the way she LOOKS at me! There's something there, I swear! And Randy, she can TALK. I mean, she doesn't just talk, she SAYS things! Do you know the last time I met a girl I could talk to?" He sighed. "A guy can dream, man."

I sighed and put my hand on his shoulder. "Go ahead and dream. You deserve it. But I need you to keep a grasp on what's real, too." I paused, considering. "And there's something wrong with those two. Have you noticed it?"

"What do you mean?"

"They're always touching. They're never separated."

He grinned. "I think it's sort of hot. Do you think they're lovers?"

I shook my head. "Even if they are, they're taking it to an extreme." I shook my head. "No, the way Kendra looks at me ... the way Janie looks at you ... there's something about it ... a hunger. And I think it's more than sexual. They're hungry for ... US. Not just sex ... but US." I paused again. "I have a nephew ... my sister's kid. Four years old. He really loves it when I come to visit. I read to him all the time. He just wants to BE with me. When he sees me, his whole face lights up. THAT's the look. That's the way those girls are looking at us! They want to BE with us ... and yet ... they never let go of each other. It's just really weird."

There was nothing left to say, and so we made our way back to the dining room. The others had left, and we followed the sound of male voices through two more rooms before we found them, standing in front of a blazing fireplace. The girls had gone to powder their noses. Frank and I both declined the proffered cigars, accepted huge snifters of cognac, and tried to stay away from the bluish billows of Cuban smoke coming from Toddworth and Yarnell while keeping up the semblance of conversation. Finally, the girls strode back into the room, hand-in-hand, of course, and as if by mutual consent, they made a beeline toward us. As they arrived, they finally parted, Kendra immediately snaking her arm through mine, while Janie seized Frank's hand.

"Tell me why you're here." Kendra spoke softly, so that only I heard the question, and she tugged my arm gently in the direction of the love seat under one of the huge windows, away from the two older men by the fireplace. I followed instinctively, watching, bemused, as Janie steered Frank toward a couch in the corner.

"As if you didn't know," I answered.

She looked genuinely confused. I didn't think she could fake an expression like that. "But I don't know," she said, still keeping her voice low. "Do you write video games for Mr. Toddworth? Are you a professional writer, too?"

That had me flummoxed, and I decided to ignore it. "That was a pretty neat trick just now, coyly separating Frank and me."

She looked down and blushed. Yes, she blushed; no doubt about it. I didn't know black people COULD blush; but now, thinking about it dispassionately for the very first time in my life, I didn't know where I picked up that misconception. My first impulse was to take her in my arms and comfort her, but I resisted. "I suppose it was pretty obvious," she said, speaking in the general direction of her feet. "I'm sorry if I made you feel ... uncomfortable. But in the bathroom ... well ... Janie wanted to be alone with Frank. She's got it in her head that he's ... uh ... well, she thinks he's pretty special. She just wants a chance to get to know him. And she asked if I could ... um ... distract you, I guess. And now, I feel like a real horse's ass, making you sit here and talk to me. And ...."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" I exclaimed, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender ... which was a little difficult, because Kendra still had her arm entwined in mine. "I'm sorry. I really apologize, no kidding. I'M the horse's ass, not you. It's just that Frank and I are trying to sell some code to Toddworth, and ... well ... being a natural born horse's ass, I just sort of assumed that everyone in this house is the enemy."

She looked up at me with huge, questioning eyes. "Code? Like with spies?"

I barked a laugh. "Computer code, Kendra. For video games."

She nodded and lowered her eyes again. "Of course. I'm stupid."

I hooked a fingertip under her pert little chin and turned her face toward mine, realizing immediately that it was a mistake. Our faces were scant inches apart, and for some reason, I got the impression that we were like two magnets getting too close to keep apart. I swallowed nervously, before saying: "Of all the people here tonight, you are the least stupid person, by far. That stuff about translators ...."

"Mr. Toddworth set up the questions, knowing that we knew the answers," she responded, gazing deeply into my eyes. "I don't know why he did that. He was trying to impress you with us for some reason. He knew that Janie and I met while taking a foreign authors class in college." She studied me intently. "Are you going to kiss me now? I didn't think it would happen so soon. I'm not sure I'm ready yet."

I pulled away from her a little to study her, but she tried to stay close, clutching my arm to do so. I looked at her questioningly. "Not ready?" Her expression didn't change. She was trying to see something in my eyes, staring incredulously, longingly. I took a deep breath. "Look ... Kendra ... please forgive my confusion. I'm really puzzled here. I've never been with a professional lady before."

She kept studying me. "Professional? A woman writer, you mean?" And a moment later, her eyes widened to huge circles as she suddenly understood my meaning. "Professional!" she gasped. Tears immediately flooded her eyes, and as she finally lowered them, embarrassed, they overflowed and spilled down her cheeks like rivers that had crested their banks. She abruptly tried to stand, but she couldn't without relinquishing her hold on my arm, which she didn't seem capable of doing.

I stumbled to my feet, more or less so that she, too, could stand. "What the hell?" I muttered, wishing immediately that I hadn't said it out loud. She turned to go, but couldn't. She wanted to leave me, but seemed incapable of breaking our physical contact.

"Please take me to your room now," she said between clenched teeth. "Let's get it over with. This is what he wanted. This is why we're here. Let's just do it."

Somehow, every time I opened my mouth I stuck my foot in it, so I resolved to say nothing else until I had her alone. I forcefully turned her toward the door, jerking my arm free of hers, in the process. At the same time, I wrapped my other arm around her waist and pulled her to my shoulder (into which she immediately buried her face). In this posture, no one could see she was crying ... it just looked, more or less, like she was being overly affectionate. "Folks, if you'll please excuse us, I think we'll turn in for the evening," I announced to the room in general. I steered her toward the hallway. My eyes sought out Frank, but he and Janie were engaged in a serious smoochfest on the couch, and he obviously hadn't heard me.

"Have a great time, Randy!" Toddworth laughed. "I know it's going to be a memorable night. Kendra there will do absolutely anything you want. Anything at all. Isn't that right, Kendra?"

She made a sound into my shoulder ... a sort of whimpering groan, and I increased our pace until we were well clear of the room. "What an unmitigated asshole!" I hissed. I tried to think violent thoughts about him, but my entire consciousness was taken up by the amazing texture of the velvet dress my arm and hand were enjoying. Her stomach and sides were firm, yet soft, and I was afraid that if I left my hand there too long, it would happily take root. She was wearing a very subtle perfume that made me want to nuzzle the side of her neck, seeking the spots she'd applied it to. When we came to the stairs, I didn't pause, steering her upward, but when we'd finally reached the upper hallway, I stopped. She seemed content, for the moment, just to be led; and now, unresisting, she allowed me to turn her toward me as I supported her, holding her by the shoulders. The tailor had insisted on handkerchiefs to finish off the ensembles, and I fished it out of my breast pocket. Silk makes lousy handkerchiefs. It wasn't very absorbent and primarily, it just smeared the tears around her cheeks.

"Kendra, I'm really, really sorry for what I said down there. I'm trying to act like somebody I'm not. The last thing I want to do tonight is make you sad. I'm extremely confused right now, that's all." I took a deep breath, which didn't help because the air was tinted with her perfume. I couldn't seem to grasp a coherent thought. "I should probably just take you to your room. Where is it?"

She blinked up at me, uncomprehending. "I ... I'm not sure. I'm a little lost. We've been ... um ... downstairs." She couldn't make herself meet my questioning gaze, and suddenly, she snatched the hanky and wiped her face while lowering her eyes nervously. "You ... you don't want me?"

I didn't seem to be able to keep a low moan out of the sigh I issued. "Of course I want you. You're just about the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen. But ... I don't think I could forgive myself if I made you cry again, and I don't seem capable of opening my mouth without saying something brainlessly idiotic."

She looked up at me again, wonder in her eyes. "You ... you think I'm pretty?"

"Think you're pretty?" I was gawking, openmouthed. "Jeez, Kendra!"

She blew her nose into the handkerchief, then gasped and stared at it. "Oh, my God! I can't believe I just did that!" She seemed panicked. "I ... I'll wash it out for you! I'll ...."

I started laughing and couldn't stop, and after a few long moments, she joined in. As beautiful as she was, a smile only multiplied the effect. Finally, shaking my head, I said: "Please come in. Let's talk about things," and I let go of her and moved off to unlock the door to my room. In the next instant, her laughter had stopped, she gave a startled little cry, and she sprang after me, grabbing my right arm with both of her small hands. I took a deep breath and regarded her curiously for a moment, then smiled patiently and physically moved her left hand down until I could take it in my right one.

The anxiety drained from her slowly. "I ... I dropped the handkerchief. I need to pick it up." She looked back at it, contemplating the dilemma. She couldn't retrieve it unless she let go of me.

"Leave it," I suggested, just to see what she'd do.

"No, please. I ... I mean, if you don't want it, I do. Please?" I walked her back so that she could reach down and pick it up; then, being careful not to break physical contact, I unlocked my door and led her into my room.

I turned her toward me again once the door was closed, and once more, she showed no resistance. As long as my hands were on her, she exhibited no anxiety whatsoever, and now she raised her face to mine and treated herself to her new favorite pastime, which was staring into my eyes with a mixture of intense interest, curiosity and emotional longing. I wasn't going to be able to take much more of this.

"It's going to happen now," she said softly. "You're going to kiss me. It's going to happen."

"What's going to happen?" My voice was hoarse, and I didn't seem to be able to speak above a whisper.

"Something catastrophic," she answered simply, as if that made sense. "Something undeniable. Something permanent."

"I ... I don't understand. Do you want this?"

"Oh, yes. I've been waiting for it my whole life."

I shuddered a sigh. "Kendra, you're speaking in riddles. You act as if ...." I stopped abruptly at her expression. She was smiling up at me, and she looked ... happy. My heart skipped a beat.

"Silly boy," she chided. "Riddles have simple answers. But ... I don't. It will wait. I'll answer all your questions. Later. Just ... don't let go of me." She was still holding my hand.

"Then let lips do what hands do," I muttered, lowering my face to hers.

"Oh, God. He quotes Shakespeare," she whispered; and she closed the final two inches of space between us herself, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her lips to mine.

As you might have guessed, I'm not the world's foremost expert on the human kiss. Still, on a scale from one to ten ... well, I just don't see how any kiss could possibly ever beat that one. That set the mark. Despite my bending down toward her, she was on her tiptoes. Using her arms, however, she lifted herself off the ground long enough to let her entire body fall naturally against mine. From our feet to our lips, every single part of me seemed to pressing against every single part of her. Her lower tummy was moving sinuously against my groin, and I began to stiffen noticeably. Her breasts flattened against my lower chest while my hands roamed freely over her back and sides. The velvet had been thick enough to hide the fact that she wasn't wearing a stitch underneath, but now her nipples began thickening and growing hard. I lost track of time, but it must have gone on for two or three minutes, at least, before I started swaying slightly. I was the only thing keeping both of us upright, but I was not only getting tired, I was starting to feel dizzy.

As I broke it off, she remained clutching me around the neck, her chest heaving, her breath coming in deep gasps. I tried to pull back and look into her eyes, but she kept her face buried in my chest and the side of my neck. "Was that catastrophic?" I asked gently.

"Oh, you have no idea," she whispered gently. I felt something wet on my neck.

"Aw, Kendra ... you're crying again! What did I do wrong this time?"

She forced herself upright and drew away from me just far enough to pull my tie off. "No more questions, Randy." Her eyes were sparkling with tears, but she was smiling. "I need you to take me now. I need to please you. I need to surrender to you."

I shucked off my jacket and tossed it on a chair, then started removing the shirt she had already finished unbuttoning. "Curiouser and curiouser," I mumbled. I toed off my shoes, since she had just done the same with her high heels. The difference in our heights was acute now.

"First Shakespeare and now Lewis Carroll," she remarked. "Do you know any American authors?" It appeared the tears had stopped.

I ran my hands up and down her sides. "I really love this dress ... but how do we get it off?"

She turned in my arms and pointed back over her shoulder at the top of a zipper, which was hidden by the rich fabric. I pulled it down slowly but steadily until the top of her bare ass was in view, then I pushed the garment off her shoulders. She lowered her hands and let it fall to the floor, and all of a sudden, she was completely nude. She spun slowly to face me. "I'm shy," she whispered.

I swallowed hard, a combination of nervousness and suppressed lust. My hands were on her waist, but now that her breasts were right there, I couldn't keep from stroking my way up to them. "You're perfect," I husked. "Just perfect."

Her hands were on my arms, but now she let them encircle my body and pull me to her. I didn't want to let go of those breasts, but I did, and I held her, pulling her to me, smelling her hair, which had obviously been recently washed with lilac shampoo. "Randy ..." she said softly, "it's ... um ... been a long time for me. I ... I was never really any good at it, anyway. I never knew what to do. I ... I want to make this good for you. I wish I could make it perfect ... but ... but you might need to tell me what to do. I'm sorry."

I backed off until I could look into her eyes. "What has that son of a bitch done to you? Is he blackmailing you or something?"

"No," she pleaded. "I want this! I want it more than I've ever wanted anything! Please take me! Please!"

Exasperated, I backed off and peeled off my pants, underwear and socks. She kept her hand on my arm while I did that, then stepped forward to press her body against mine again. I stroked her neck, her face, her back. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around my cock, which had been sticking her in the stomach, and I groaned loudly. "Kendra ... I ... I don't have any protection. It never dawned on me to bring something."

That made her pause, though she didn't let go of my shaft. "Do we really need it? I'm on the pill; and I had a blood test with my last physical. I'm okay." Again, something was wrong with this picture. She seemed to have no thoughts at all about her own safety; she only seemed intent on pleasing me.

I'd had just about all the mystery I could take for awhile. It would have to wait. I bent down abruptly, hooked my arm below her tight little butt, and hoisted her up into my arms, spinning toward the bed as I did so. She squealed and laughed, then quieted, her arms around my neck, and she sighed deeply. "You're romantic. Somehow, I knew you would be." I lowered her to the bed, slid my body beside hers, and I kissed her again.

My hands began to wander, seemingly of their own accord. Her breasts were spectacular, and her nipples were dark and fat and very hard. I slid one hand down between her legs, and she opened herself to me immediately, without any reluctance. She had shaved all her pubic hair, and she was dripping wet. I slid a finger inside her, and she suddenly cried out, stiffened and convulsed in what appeared to be an orgasm, as the walls of her cunt clutched and contracted against my hand. I drew my head back and regarded her inquiringly. Her eyes were shut tight, and she was shivering all over. "A bit of a short fuse?" I asked, smiling.

She peeked at me with one eye and blushed. "I ... I can't help it. You touched me just right and ...." She froze as my hand moved upward along her gash, across her clitoris. "Oh, God, Randy! Here it comes again! UGH! Ahhh! Ahhh!"

The base of my palm was on her stomach, the muscles of which rippled and clenched, while her body strained against my hand. She seemed to have no control at all, and if we hadn't been having sex, I would have sworn she was having some sort of seizure. Her hands clutched my arms so hard that her nails were digging into me, and I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out. She couldn't be faking something like this, could she? And if so, why, when we were just getting started? I'd barely touched her.

At last, she reached down and pulled my hand away from her pussy. "Please," she panted. "Please ... no more. Let me rest a minute. I ... I can't take any more right now." She was breathing hard and still shaking.